Strange thing happened the other day. I picked up one of my novels that I hadn’t touched since it came out in paperback. For some reason, I had a yearning to visit the words and lines again. It was like there was something missing and for some weird reason, I just wanted to re-read the story. I know, after proofing and editing the thing three dozen times, you’d think I’d never go near it again, but as I got about a quarter way through, that empty feeling started to diminish. Then it hit me. I actually missed the characters. It was if I had been away from best friends and missed the comfort they brought me whenever they were around.
Yeah, I know, very particular, but in my head the characters exist; they’re not just fictional images I conjured up in my head, they are flesh and blood, and I miss them.
I wonder if other authors ever sense that absence of the friends that came to life in their stories and go back to revisit the words and lines again. Nah, probably just the weirdo big guy (g).
Michael Davis (Davisstories.com)
Author of the year, 2008